Upon My Chamber Door
by The Original Terriot
Summary: Arzai, High Obad of Goran is preparing herself for the Beltine festival when suddenly a rapping resounds upon her door. Who it is unknown to her, yet of their name she does implore. For what news this stranger brings may be welcome or bring cruelty to her ear. - A tribute to Keely Greenfield AKA The Green Scholar's epic fantasy series The Book of Terrus. Support the Original Author


_**Authors Note**_ \- _Hello Ladies and Gentleman and welcome one and all, this the very first FanFiction of The Book of Terrus, A fantastic new fantasy series created by the exceptionally talented author The Green Scholar AKA Keely Greenfield. This will be hopefully the first of many FanFictions created in tribute to this amazing authors work. If you'd like to support her then I'm sure she will be grateful, as her work is so good yet attention is lacking and hard to find. I hope you all enjoy this, and to Miss Greenfield. Thank you so much for providing me with all the inspiration I needed to exist. -_

The season of Beltine was the most festive of the new solstice seasons in the land of Goran, a time of great renewal, a time of rebirth, a time of regeneration and a time of new sights and hopes for the future. This Beltine, Arzai: High Obad of the Magicol of Goran settled herself before the large vanity of her chamber, absently applying a soft layer of ink to the fine tips of her eyes. The ink tapered to a point, giving the already sultry eyes of Arzai an almost felid quality. She wore the sensuous robes of her order, adorned with streaks of golden leaf and swathed with a sash of silk about her waist, Arzai tossing back the drape of a long, dark brown hair, to allow herself the freedom to apply a light layer of olive oil to treat the unfortunate condition of her skin.

As one of the most powerful Fire Obad's in all of Goran, Arzai often had to work exceptionally hard to keep her skin smooth, soft and feminine. For fire, if left unchecked, may turn the deepest ocean into dry, parched sand. Human skin was no exception to the rules set by the Earth Mother.

Arzai started at her neck, treating the cracked skin with care, tenderness and tact, working the oil into her skin until it shone like sun-kissed bronze and was as smooth as the riches porcelain. It would not do to be in attendance to the Beltine feast with nothing less than her normal, exceptional quality.

Suddenly, the door to her chamber resounded, as of someone gently rapping. Azai found herself confused, intrigued at who would dare disturb her in a time of most important indulgence.

"Yes?" she said with vigour. "Who thus seeks entrance to my chamber at such a harsh, unsightly time? To you O' visitor I implore. For the day grows dreary and the evening evermore. Speak my friend and tell me who thus seek entrance through my door?"

"Tis I, O' fair and radiant maiden, who thus seeks entrance through your door. He who rules the heavens and your heart I so adore."

"O' Davenir, sweet friend, he whose heart I once adored. Seek entrance to my chamber and see me as you implore."

Davenir entered the chamber of Arzai with an offering of smiles and intrigue. For fetching was his countenance, though not as rugged or as stiff as men of younger age. His eyes were blue as the heavens and his hair a wealth of grey. Though age nor death had ravaged him, his hair was as white as snow, for when one flies upon the winds of heaven, the sun can bleach even the softest thread.

Arzai greeted her friend and confine, a smile beset her face, as with a gentle touch and chaste kiss she greeted him in bliss.

"O' Davenir sweet kindred, of heaven and of air, where has though been these past evenings, for your presence I have missed."

"O' Arzai, fair and heated as the sun, I have been lost in conflict with our most hated ones."

Arzai's face grew grim, a cast of anger to her lips as the thought of the Factionist beset her brow with woe. For across the lands of Goran a once fragile peace had been broke. As the threat of the one named Vinie ravished their subjects like a ravenous wolf. Non knew of what this so-called Black Pearl did look like, but her legend grew like an inferno, in-sighting chaos throughout the land.

Davenir touched her cheeks with a soft benign caress, as Arzai smiled gently and smiled as his touch soothed her ire.

"O' Davenir, sweet friend, confine and dearest kin, sit with me, take wine and tell me, of what news it is you bring."

Davenir smiled and took a seat upon the edge of Arzai's devan. Then sweet wine and fruit were offered as she too sat beside him, and they shared wine from vessel cups.

"Tis more dire than we thought, O' Arzai, best of friends. For this Black Pearl is more beast than human, with an army formed from slaves."

"Armies have rallied against us, for years even before our own. Yet Our King has always been victorious. Is this new enemy so formidable that even history my be proven wrong?"

"History is but a product of research and of guesses. But I believe in this present day, and of what horrors I have seen. And beneath the might of this Factionist, that Goran herself may be broken, forever divided across the lands. Vinie PearlDiver is no mere Utunmani. Those who follow so adore her that I fear that our King may need discreetness, rather than the iron dominance he has for so long enjoyed."

Arzai sat in quiet recollection, pondering words of he who once she had so adored. But her heart lay weighted and entrenched by tradition and of that she must implore.

"I commanded you my Air brother, my friend and he I so adore. But I ask you now to leave me, for this dilemma I must consider, and the night hours I cannot enjoy."

Davenir grew dejected, wanting to help her through her wars.

But he left Arzai respectfully, as his eyes lingered on her door.


End file.
